


Drift and Call it Dreaming

by galimau



Category: Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz
Genre: BDSM, M/M, SCORPIA!Alex, kink meme fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:56:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25997113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galimau/pseuds/galimau
Summary: Alex, after a job. The body keeps score, but Yassen is willing to be the steady hand to keep his protege stable.(AR kinkmeme de-anon)
Relationships: Yassen Gregorovich/Alex Rider
Comments: 5
Kudos: 75
Collections: Alex Rider Kinkmeme





	Drift and Call it Dreaming

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the kinkmeme prompt of: [After a mission, Alex has a hard time getting out of his adrenaline-fueled state. His mind is working at a million miles a minute and he's agitated and hyperalert. Yassen helps him get out of his head for a few hours.]
> 
> Thank you to the prompter!

The scratch of fingers over his scalp made Alex crack one lazy eye open. It was absurdly early in the morning, and even though he’d slept well last night it was the easiest thing in the world to slip into a light doze on the floor, half propped against Yassen's chair and head tilted against his thigh. It was a more comfortable place than many to rest, especially when boredom with whatever he was working on drove Yassen to run an absentminded hand over Alex's scalp.

That slow attention came again, fingers twisting in his hair, tugging lightly at the ends. He kept it longer than it should be, partly because taking the time to get a haircut seemed frivolous when he was bouncing between jobs and more because Yassen enjoyed playing with it. And pulling it. 

Alex enjoyed that part, too. 

Alex hummed and pressed into the contact, waking up just that little bit more. He barely remembered crawling out of bed to follow Yassen to the seating area across the room, not what time it had been or pulling the blanket with him.

He felt sore, well-used and vaguely sticky with sweat and come from last night. He'd arrived back in the usual flurry of paperwork and orders for cleanup crews and letting his team deal with the formal security debriefing. Since it usually boiled down to _'despite his own efforts to the contrary, we kept Alex safe_ ', it was best to give them some room after a stressful mission. 

Alex had gone directly to Yassen, working in his private room despite the late hour. There were plenty of details that wouldn’t make it into the final report that he would sign off on, observations and gut instincts that neither of them wanted down on paper but that Yassen needed to know. And somehow, no matter what medical said, he never seemed to believe that Alex was unharmed until they’d spoken in person. It was both flattering and deeply exasperating. That quiet concern was evident most of all when the job had been harsh, requiring him to burn at both ends for days at a time. 

Alex had no complaints about the work. He was young. He could do it. 

But even as proud and prickly as he was of his performance, the stress took its toll on him, even once he was home. Throughout the meeting with Yassen, Alex had been jittery on post-mission adrenaline, talking fast and unable to stop his fingers drumming against his legs as he gave the report. Even knowing he was broadcasting tension with every gesture, Alex hadn’t been able to force himself to calm down. Without the threat of immediate, fatal consequence on the horizon there was nowhere for the energy to go.

He wasn’t his teacher. Wasn’t _Cossack_ , with decades of experience and ice in his bones. Alex locked himself down to do the work, knowing that it was like setting a pot on the stove. He’d either boil over or burn out if left unattended, and it was pure grit that kept him going on the longest jobs. It was something he was working on. Something they were _both_ working on because Yassen had a vested interest in his well being.

And what Alex couldn’t make himself say, between the lines of the actual report, Yassen knew him well enough to understand anyways. He wasn’t a man who made a habit of missing much, and Alex wasn’t trying to hide how worn thin he was. 

He knew it showed. Dark circles and nearly-invisible tremors and the hangdog look in his eyes. 

The type of trust he had in Yassen was woven into his bones, holding him together as much as any tendon or ligament. Even that hadn’t stopped Alex from twitching when the man got up from his regal armchair at his ‘home’ desk. 

Antsy. Hypervigilant, to use the right term, but Alex loathed the clinical accuracy. 

All it made Yassen do was cock his head, then begin a steady progress around the room, keeping the conversation direct and reasonable. Logistics, the performance of the people on his team. How long Alex had slept in transit, coming home. Each question gave Alex something to focus on that wasn’t Yassen’s assessing prowl, and by the time he came to a stop in front of Alex, he’d stopped tracking his movements. 

“You did well.” Level and barely tinged with approval. That was the standard expected of him, and Alex didn’t often fall short. It still meant the world to hear from Yassen. No matter how tired and anxious, Alex couldn’t help but smile. 

Pale and strained, and he knew Yassen saw that alongside the joy. 

Yassen had hummed and stepped closer, far inside the space Alex normally needed to feel safe. But Yassen _meant_ safety. When his hand came up to cup Alex’s cheek, he swayed into the contact, breath shuddering out of him all at once.

“You were good,” Yassen said. Voice firm and utterly sure. “Welcome back.” The gentle grip tightened, thumb on Alex’s chin and eyes flicking downward. Alex was on his knees a moment later, head bowed and feeling lighter than he had since he landed in Argentina over a month ago to bring an outpost to heel. 

He’d waited there, eyes downcast and carefully demure, listening as Yassen moved around the room again. Knowing that he could hear his steps only because Yassen allowed him to. He’d twitched around last time, keeping him in the corner of his eye. Now, Alex could remain still and focus on the sounds of their night. Footsteps circling him, the rasp of sheets being folded to the foot of the bed. The soft scrape of a drawer pulling open sent shivers of anticipation down his spine but it wasn’t Alex finally felt soft leather close around his neck that the last of his tension vanished. He’s done well, he’d been good, and _Yassen still wanted him_. 

The last, and most important piece of reassurance that Alex craved after a long time away, pulled in every direction but the one he wanted most.

When Yassen crooked his finger through the well-used ring at the front to tug him to the bed, Alex went gladly. After so long apart, Yassen had been in the mood to claim him thoroughly and Alex wanted nothing more than to obey.

It was a long, exhausting night and exactly what he’d needed. Now, with his hips pleasantly aching and fresh bruises bitten down his chest and thighs where they would be easily hidden, Alex felt better than he ever thought possible when his world was stress and violence and tightly-wound self-control. 

Everything in him unspooled and detangled and was put back where it belonged.

When the gentle pressure of Yassen’s fingers through his hair came again, Alex made an effort to actually sit up from his boneless slump. The hand paused, cradling the back of his head. 

“Are you awake?”

Alex considered. The thigh beneath his cheek was a wonderful pillow, and the blanket he was curled on was soft and warm. His internal clock was insisting that it was the time of day only suited for Yassen and other nocturnal creatures. 

“Nope,” he answered and burrowed his face into the gap between the chair and Yassen’s leg. 

The answering half-laugh was something he felt more than heard, and Yassen continued to pet him, hand making traveling over his head to stop at his neck, landing at his collar to trace the line of it against his throat, where the skin felt electric and sensitive. No command in the motion, just attention and the always-welcome reminder that it was _there_. 

...and the less happy reality that it had to be removed soon.

Alex grabbed that thought and shoved it firmly away. He still had time, and refused to spoil being allowed to doze on Yassen with impossible wishes. Everyone wanted to be wanted. These between-times, when the world and its demands faded back were precious. The only thing that made Alex’s life make sense, on the worst days. 

But the best days, when Yassen’s voice was soft and Alex felt cradled by his attention and he felt like he would take on the world and win if only given the order… those days gave him purpose. That he belonged and was wanted, even on the heels of violence.

Resting here, surrounded by care and comfort, it was easier to make sense of that in his mind. That he could be a weapon, because he trusted Yassen to wield him. He could be safe, because his owner carved out a place for him in his life. They had never put that word to it, and Alex knew the shape of old tragedies never to press, but it didn’t stop it from being true.

He’d given himself to Yassen to do with what he would, and caught in the warmth from last night, that was impossible to regret. Some measure of peace, snatched back from a world without it. 

It was more than he thought he would have. And greed had never been his vice, but he wanted to keep this.

The collar around his neck promised that Yassen was determined to keep him, too. 

A vow he could rest himself on.


End file.
